


Fumigation

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: Almost everyone at Hogwarts finds him or herself acting strangely thanks to the effects of a psychotropic gas, including Snape. When Sirius shows up at his door to issue a warning about the gas, Snape would rather shag than talk, but Sirius is a little shy...





	Fumigation

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2003. This was written to fulfil the following Snape Fuh-Q Fest scenario challenge #18: Another tunnel is discovered under the castle. When opened, a psychotropic gas is released, affecting everyone in the castle. How is Snape's personality changed and what are the unexpected results of that?

The first indication for Snape that something was wrong came when Harry Potter broke down in tears after Snape ridiculed his pathetic attempt at a simple mind-focusing potion. It was Friday, and that meant double Potions with the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins, which was always a test of his will power: Could he make it through the entire period without hexing anyone? But usually Longbottom was the only one he reduced to blubbering incoherence; this was a most unusual and unexpected turn of events.

"Nobody loves me!" the young man wailed as he leapt up from his seat and fled from the room.

"Potter! Come back this instant!" Snape shouted at the sobbing, retreating figure as he strode to the door after him. "Ten points from Gryffindor if you don't return immediately!"

But Potter was gone, the echoes of his sobs ringing down the hall. Snorting over the foolishness of youth, Snape turned back to his class, only to see Draco wandering around the room aimlessly, a mooncalf look on his face.

"Mr Malfoy, return to your seat," Snape demanded, but Draco paid him no more heed than Potter had done, which was quite unusual.

Amid titters from his classmates -- except Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle, who appeared alarmed -- Draco lay down on the cold, stone floor and stared up at the ceiling, as if seeing things no one else could in the centuries-old architecture. "I just want to lie on the floor and be groovy," he sighed with beatific bliss, and Snape gaped at him, nonplussed.

"Mr Malfoy, you will get up right now and return to your seat, or it will be five points from Slytherin," Snape announced. "We have had _quite_ enough interruptions for one day."

"Hear that? That's what we have to fight against, my brothers and sisters in revolution!"

This shrill cry made Snape whirl to seek out its source, which happened to be Miss Granger, who was standing on her chair, her wild hair flying around her face as she attempted to rally her classmates, a fanatical gleam in her eyes.

"Miss Granger, get down _now_!" roared Snape, but to no avail; Granger turned on him, pointing at him and glaring fiercely.

"You represent everything we must overthrow for our freedom!" she cried, shaking her fists at him. "Damn the oppression! Power to the people! Question authority!" With one last cry of "anarchy in the UK!", Granger ran out of the room.

Snape assumed she was off to foment dissent.

Two pupils fled, one wallowing on the floor, and the rest... Mr Goyle had found a mouse and was stroking and petting it with utmost gentle care; Mr Crabbe was braiding Miss Brown's hair; Mr Weasley was attending to his potion with a studiousness he'd never before evidenced in all his years at Hogwarts, and there was a cluster of pupils in the back corner with their arms around one another, singing "Kumbaya." Of all of them, only Longbottom seemed as puzzled as Snape; he stared at his classmates, his expression one of utter bewilderment, his amazement interrupted only by the occasional sneeze, followed by judicious application of a handkerchief to his nose.

What the devil was going on here? Snape wondered, giving up trying to corral the little beasts for the moment. Was this some kind of elaborate prank? Had the insolent monsters conspired to throw his class into disruption? Or had something gone horribly awry with their potions?

No, that was impossible. He had been supervising them as carefully as always, and other than Longbottom's usual bumbling, there had been no mistakes large enough to account for this. Besides, none of them had imbibed the concoction... unless the fumes...?

He breathed in deeply, testing the air, but he detected nothing out of the ordinary, scent-wise, for this particular potion -- wait.

There. Just below the surface of the predominant scent. There was something... a strange odor, winding amid the steam from all the cauldrons... something sharp, yet oddly enticing... something...

What was he doing here with a roomful of idiotic adolescents? Snape glanced down at himself. And in these ridiculously out-dated clothes? Why, he wasn't showing an inch of skin, and that was a bloody shame. He hadn't kept himself lean and fit all these years just to hide it under layer on layer of clothes. Still, the sight would be wasted on these infants, he thought with a sneer. There was another who might be far more appreciative, but Snape couldn't seek him out looking like this.

No, time to shed the robes and get into something more appropriate, something that would show everyone just what a sexy bastard he really was, something that would reveal his true self.

"I _AM_ the Sex God of Slytherin!"

Having announced that truth to the world -- or at least to his oblivious students -- Snape swept out of the classroom and went to his quarters, already throwing off his robes and unfastening the endless row of buttons on his jacket along the way.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, Neville left the Potions classroom and tried to pass through the entrance hall on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, only to find it guarded by the Headmaster, who was holding a long, gnarled tree limb.

As soon as Professor Dumbledore saw Neville, he raised the limb vertically in both hands and screamed, "You shall not pass!"

Neville squeaked out a terrified "meep!" and ran. There was more than one way to get to the Tower, and clearly, this was not the right route to take at the moment.

* * *

In his private chambers, Snape stood in front of the mirror, assessing the changes he'd made in preparation for conquest.

 _Much better_ , he thought with a small, pleased smile.

A rummage through his wardrobe had revealed he possessed nothing suitable, and so he had transfigured some of the frumpy, starched, concealing garments into something more appropriate for what he intended to do. He'd also bathed and washed his hair again, to remove the potion residue that always made it lank and oily by the end of the day. Normally, he didn't give a damn, but he had plans for a Certain Someone involving nudity and the exchange of bodily fluids, and appearing greasy wouldn't work in his favor. Even Sex Gods must look their best when wooing a new lover.

Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the door, but just as he reached to open it, he heard a timid knock.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, Neville had decided to visit the kitchen, since no one else had been in the Great Hall for lunch. Without the Headmaster there to cast the Summoning spell, the food had never appeared, and Neville's tummy was rumbly.

When he got to the kitchen, chaos met his eyes.

Hermione stood on a cabinet, one half of her face painted blue and the other white, and she was flinging socks, tea towels, and undershirts at the house elves, who were screaming and fleeing in panic.

"Damn the oppression of the authoritarian establishment!" she exclaimed. "They may give us points and detentions, but they'll never take away our freedom!"

Neville paused long enough to grab a jug of pumpkin juice and a plate of muffins before scurrying away.

* * *

Sirius jumped, startled, when Snape's door was flung open mere seconds after he had knocked; he'd been sent to deliver a message, and the apology for being a bother that had been poised on his lips withered and died when he got a good look at Snape.

He hadn't known Snape owned a pair of black leather trousers.

He swallowed hard to moisten his suddenly dry throat, but he was too entranced by the sight of long legs encased in tight leather to form thoughts more detailed than "oh, my goodness." He let his gaze wander up from the polished black boots to the leather-clad thighs, but he averted his eyes from anything higher, blushing at the mere thought of looking _there_.

"I - I came to tell you --" he stammered, twisting his fingers round each other as his face grew hotter.

Snape was holding a leather jacket, but he hadn't yet put it on, and Sirius was torn between scandalised shock at the immodesty, and fascination with the tantalising glimpse of what had been hidden beneath all those clothes Snape usually wore, namely a lean, firm stomach, broad shoulders, nicely toned arms, and... a nipple ring. Sirius looked away quickly.

"Yes?" Snape tossed the jacket aside, braced one hand on the doorframe and leaned closer, invading Sirius' personal space, and Sirius felt his cheeks go up in flames again as he avoided any possibility of eye contact.

Why was it so hot? He didn't remember the dungeon ever being this hot before.

"Filch..." Sirius broke off again, unnerved by the way Snape was not-quite-touching him.

"What about Filch?" Snape's voice was low and quiet, a dark chocolate purr that made Sirius all tingly in places that decent people didn't think about, much less tingle in.

"He -- there was an accident," he blurted out, sounding breathless and quavery even to himself. "He found a new tunnel not far from the Chamber of Secrets, and when he opened it, there was a gas --"

Snape leaned forward, letting their body heat mingle, and ran one finger slowly along Sirius' jawline. "Oh?"

"Oh..." One touch, and Sirius felt all fluttery inside, wanting to run away -- this was wrong! nice men didn't let half-naked scoundrels touch them! -- but at the same time, mesmerised by the strange attraction that was weaving itself around them. "Oh!" Forcing himself to focus on his task, Sirius tried to shake off the naughty tingles once and for all. "I mean -- it's affecting everybody -- changing our personalities somehow --"

"Is it really?" Now Snape was sifting his fingers through Sirius' hair, and Sirius tried to resist the indecent urge to lean into the caress.

"Y-yes -- I was sent to warn you -- Filch is trying to evacuate people -- or -- or he was, until he ran up to the top of the Astronomy Tower and started shouting, 'I'm king of the world'."

"Consider me duly warned." Snape cupped Sirius' cheek in the palm of his hand, forcing Sirius to look at him. "Do I look like I want to evacuate the castle?"

Sirius stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless, struggling to keep from falling into Snape's arms. Nice men weren't easy, nice men didn't have casual sex, nice men didn't go all melty in the knees when someone touched them. "No," he whispered.

"What do I look like I want to do?" Snape's dark eyes were half-lidded and smouldering, and Sirius couldn't look away.

"You look like..." He couldn't say it. He couldn't. It was just... too naughty.

"Shall I spell it out for you?" Snape brushed a feather-light kiss against the corner of Sirius' mouth, and Sirius flinched and whimpered. "I don't give a damn about any sodding hidden chamber or what kind of gas it emitted. I want to take you to bed."

He couldn't do this; he couldn't give himself up to some casual fling. He was a nice man, he was a _good_ man, and by golly, he wouldn't be seduced so easily!

"No, I can't..." He shook his head, refusing to look at Snape.

"How long has it been, hhm?" Another brush of lips, this time on his temple. "Have you been with anyone since you were released from prison?"

He shook his head. Until six months ago, he had been in hiding or on the run; he'd had no chance to meet anyone, much less get to know them well enough to -- to -- tohavesexwiththem. Even after Voldemort's defeat when the Ministry reviewed his case and declared him innocent, Sirius had been too busy trying to figure out what "normal" life was and how to live it again to think about a relationship.

"Oh, my lovely, you are long overdue."

He peeked at Snape from beneath lowered lashes, blushing anew at the thought of Snape considering him lovely. He'd once been young and handsome, but he couldn't believe his looks were what they had been. How could they be? He had lived in hell for twelve years, and he still felt the pall on his soul; he couldn't have come away from that without a physical toll as well.

"I'm not..." He drew in a deep breath, braced himself. "I'm not lovely."

"Who told you that?" Snape's voice was filled with puzzlement now.

"No one. I just know."

Snape's hand slid to the back of Sirius' head, fingers tangling and tightening in his short hair that was as black as Snape's own. "You've always been foolish. Lovely, but foolish."

Considering that Snape was nuzzling his ear when he said that, Sirius couldn't seem to work up enough indignation to reply, especially since he didn't want to be rude and make Snape angry with him. Nice men didn't do that.

Snape trailed his lips along the side of Sirius' neck, sending sparks skittering along his nerves and sensitising his skin to a degree he hadn't known was possible. "Come to bed with me."

That voice, full of soft seduction, was tempting him, but Sirius had to resist. "I - I can't..."

"Why not?"

"I... I'm not a bad man..."

"Of course not," Snape murmured reassuringly, nipping at Sirius' earlobe and making him gasp. "Why would sharing my bed make you a bad man?"

The answer was there, but it made Sirius tremble to think of speaking it aloud; he squeezed his eyes shut before he said in a small, tight voice. "Because it would... it would make me h-happy, and... and I don't deserve that."

Beside him, Snape went still. "Neither do I, but I don't care." The slender fingers cradling Sirius' skull pulled back so they could stroke his hair. "Forget what you deserve." Lips against his ear, making him shiver harder, but for a different reason. "Tell me what you want. Say no, and we'll end this conversation now. Say yes, and my pleasure will be your pleasure."

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, he heard himself whispering, "yes."

He opened his eyes and saw Snape's thin lips curled in a pleased little smile.

"Good. Now come inside."

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, Neville flattened himself against the wall as Professor Lupin stormed down the corridor, growling and snarling at anyone who crossed his path.

"Get out of my way, you daft little buggers!" he shouted at a pair of hapless second years, who practically dove off to one side to escape him. "I haven't got time to be bothered with a pack of idiots right now!"

Shaken by such unexpected behavior from one of his favourite instructors, Neville made his way to Professor McGongall's office, where he found the stern deputy headmistress crocheting a doily. When she patted his head, gave him a beaming smile, and offered him a lolly, he backed away slowly until he was out of her office, then he ran to the Tower.

* * *

Grasping Sirius' hand, Snape pulled him inside, closed the door, and spell-locked it; Sirius huddled against the wall, looking for all the world like a terrified rabbit frozen by the predatory gaze of a hunting wolf. Those lovely pale eyes were wide and limpid, apprehension clear to read in them, and those full lips were parted slightly -- so very tempting. He had to have a taste, just a little one.

Trapping Sirius between the wall and his body, Snape angled his head so he could nibble lightly at Sirius' lower lip, feeling rather than hearing the hitch in Sirius' breathing when he did. He soothed the lip with a gentle swipe of his tongue, then brushed his mouth against Sirius', coaxing him into a kiss. It took a moment before Sirius responded, kissing him back at last.

 _So sweet_ , Snape thought fondly. _So sweetly shy_. He would have to be oh, so slow and gentle if he wanted his lover to respond with the intensity he knew Sirius was capable of. No rushing, no pushing. Sirius had to let go at his own pace if they were both to enjoy this night.

Pushing himself away from Sirius, Snape took his hand again and led him to the bedroom, noticing when Sirius' eyes grew even wider and his steps began to falter. Slipping his arms around Sirius' waist, Snape pulled him close and simply held him until he felt the tension begin to drain out of Sirius' body. He felt Sirius wrap both arms around him, felt Sirius rest his head on Snape's shoulder and release a quiet sigh. Snape slid his hands up and down Sirius' back in a slow, soothing caress until Sirius began to mirror the action hesitantly; the feel of Sirius' hands gliding along his bare skin was delicious torture, and he couldn't resist capturing Sirius' mouth again.

Sliding his hands down to cup Sirius' backside -- a luscious, firm double handful that he could take hours of delight in squeezing and caressing -- he took advantage of Sirius' startled gasp to slip his tongue past those parted lips. Feeling Sirius' fingers digging into his back, Snape explored Sirius' mouth with slow, sure strokes of his tongue, and it took less time than he expected before Sirius moaned and began his own tentative explorations. One kiss melted into another until an endless stream of kisses trailed behind them on the way to the bed.

While he hadn't been certain he would actually make it all the way back to his chambers with his intended lover, he had wanted to be as prepared as possible. Allowing for the possibility of passion overwhelming them in an unusual place, he had slipped a vial of scented oil in the pocket of his jacket; he had also left a jar of salve on the bedside table and turned his covers back, just in case. All had been made ready for his chosen paramour.

Now, he guided Sirius towards the bed, stopping only when it hit the back of Sirius' legs. Keeping him busy with kisses, Snape unfastened Sirius' robes and slipped them down his arms, tossing them aside without breaking lip contact. The buttons of Sirius' shirt were under attack next, and Sirius broke off their kisses with a little squeak of surprise when Snape slid his hands inside the shirt and caressed the warm, bare skin he discovered beneath.

"So soft..." Snape whispered against Sirius' lips as he skimmed his palms up and down Sirius' sides, then curved around to explore the expanse of his back. "Let me see you," he encouraged as he began easing the shirt off Sirius' shoulders, and after a moment's hesitation, Sirius let him remove the garment and add it to the growing pile on the floor.

Flattening his palms on Sirius' chest, Snape ran them down the length of his torso, letting them mold to fit every plane, every curve. Sirius' build was wiry, honed by years of hardship; there didn't seem to be a single ounce of excess fat on him, despite he'd been at Hogwarts for half a year, with the fear of being captured and given to the Dementors no longer casting a pall over his life. His skin was milky pale, and Snape wanted to taste it, to know if it tasted as delicious as it looked. Dusky nipples stood out in contrast, as if inviting Snape's attention, and he made a silent promise to give them what they wanted.

The temptation grew to be too much, and looking was no longer enough; fastening his mouth at the juncture between neck and shoulder, Snape sucked hard enough to raise the blood, to leave a mark on that lovely skin and show he had tasted it, enjoyed it, claimed it. At the feel of suction, Sirius gasped and wriggled, but Snape held him, soothing him, and soon, he tilted his head, giving Snape better access. Only when he was sure his mark was vivid did Snape begin moving down.

He bent to close his mouth over one flat nipple, teasing it with his tongue until Sirius was squirming in his arms, breath coming in shallow gasps; trailing a warm, wet path of open-mouthed kisses to its mate, he brought that one to pebbled hardness as well, momentarily lost in the feel of Sirius' writhing body and the sound of Sirius' soft, needy whimpers.

"I want..." Sirius whispered, and Snape lifted his chin.

"You want what? Tell me. I'll give it to you."

"I - I want to... to do that to you."

Immediately, Snape stood up straight and nodded. "I'd like that."

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, Neville entered the Gryffindor common-room and found Ron seated at one of the tables amid a pile of books, his forehead scrunched as if he were concentrating hard on the open book in front of him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Neville hurried over to his friend, happy to see someone who wasn't behaving strangely.

"Ron, you'll never believe what I just saw--!"

With a fierce scowl, Ron glanced up, visibly irritated, and put a finger to his lips. "Shh! Can't you see I'm trying to study? I've got to read all these books, or I won't make perfect marks on my N.E.W.Ts."

Ron studying? Wanting perfect marks?

Neville shuddered and fled to the bedroom. Apparently, he was the only sane person left at Hogwarts. Perhaps, he thought, he should owl St. Mungo's...?

* * *

Sirius' breathing was ragged, and his nipples were tingling; that was the only way he could think of to describe the sensation Snape's mouth on that sensitive flesh had evoked, and he wanted more. The part of his mind that had been urging him to stop, telling him that what he was doing was wicked and wrong, was rapidly fading under the raw lust rising up to take its place. He _wanted_ , with an intensity he couldn't remember ever feeling before.

There was a slight tremor his hand when he lifted his hand to skim his fingertips along Snape's bare chest, but Snape's sharp intake of breath at the light touch did wonders for his confidence. Feeling bolder, he outlined the nipple ring, which was in the shape of a snake devouring its own tail, with his forefinger.

"When did you get this?" he asked.

"When the Sex Pistols were still shocking."

"That long ago?" He cast a surprised glance at Snape, who nodded. "I never would have guessed..."

As much of a surprise as it was to see, Sirius preferred to play with the unexpected piece of jewelry, rather than talk about it. It glistened at him, tempting him, and he couldn't resist any longer. Leaning down, he traced the softer, more sensitive skin around it with his tongue, pleased by the way Snape gasped in response. He toyed with the ring, using his tongue to flip it up and down, then grasping it in his teeth and tugging lightly. _That_ made Snape moan and bring his hands up to Sirius' head, burying his fingers in Sirius' hair again. Encouraged, Sirius laved the nipple mercilessly until Snape was moaning continuously, his fingers tightening on Sirius' scalp.

Lifting his head again, Sirius smiled shyly, pleased with his accomplishment, and licked his lips -- and suddenly, he could see smouldering embers burst into flame in the depths of Snape's dark eyes at that simple act. He saw Snape's desire, pure and hungry, all directed at him. He felt a heady rush of power, which was quickly followed by a heady rush of his own desire when Snape growled low and kissed him again fiercely before dropping to his knees at Sirius' feet.

Before Sirius had time to question what he was doing down there, Snape had secured one arm around Sirius' waist and was using his free hand to unfasten Sirius' trousers.

"What--? Oh, you can't--!" he gasped, but Snape held him too firmly for him to break away, and Snape looked up at him with that same smouldering, intense expression.

"Let me taste you," he entreated softly, even as he slid his fingers beneath the fabric to stroke Sirius through his underpants. "Please," he added, and Sirius could only moan his consent.

Before he was entirely aware of what was happening, his trousers and underpants were both around his ankles, Snape had paused long enough to reach over to get... something... Sirius was too lust-addled to pay very close attention... from the bedside table, and then...

Heat.

Moist heat.

Groaning, Sirius closed his eyes and gave himself over to the waves of pleasure washing over him with every stroke of Snape's tongue. Snape had one hand firmly wrapped around the base of Sirius' shaft while he took the rest in as deeply as possible, wriggling his tongue along the underside and swirling it around the head, bobbing up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, and then...

Suction.

Sirius couldn't hold back a hoarse cry, and he grabbed Snape's shoulders to steady himself, but even that almost wasn't enough to keep him upright when he felt a slick finger easing inside him. Instinctively, he tensed, but before he could protest or try to move away, Snape moved his finger -- and brushed against _something_ that made sparks go off behind Sirius' eyelids, and Sirius cried out again sharply, digging his fingers into Snape's bare flesh. Pleasure-tension coiled tighter as Snape sucked him and stroked him and fucked him first with one finger and then with two, until he felt he was on the verge of tumbling headlong into orgasm.

And suddenly it was all gone, the tongue, the lips, the fingers -- taken away before he could fall. He opened his eyes, whimpering a protest of the loss, but then Snape's mouth was on his, and he could taste himself on Snape's lips.

"I want you," Snape murmured against his lips. "Tell me I can have you."

"You can have me." His voice was barely audible to his own ears, but Snape seemed to hear him just fine.

Hands that were more gentle than Sirius had ever imagined Snape's hands could be turned him around and guided him to brace himself on the edge of the bed, and blood roared in his ears as anticipation and apprehension battled within him. But it was too late to turn back now, with Snape's arm around him again, and his own desire raging, and something wider than two fingers slipping just barely inside him. His fingers clenched in the sheets beneath his hands at that intrusion of heat and hardness, and he gasped at the stretching pain; behind him, Snape stilled, waiting for him to adjust before pushing forward a little more, a little deeper, and he closed his hand around Sirius' shaft to distract him.

The pain faded, and all that remained was rising pleasure as Snape pumped him slowly, building him back up to that shimmering edge again; finally, Snape was completely inside him, Snape's chest pressed against Sirius' back as he bent over Sirius and began thrusting deep, matching the rhythm of his hand. With a low groan, Sirius tilted his head back, letting it rest on Snape's shoulder, turning for a kiss, and their mouths met, their tongues dueling as Snape continued the leisurely pace.

But it didn't last; it couldn't last, not when their mutual need was so great. Soon, Snape's hand was pumping him hard and fast, just as Snape was pounding him, slamming into him, taking him, fucking him hard, fucking him raw, as if everything Snape needed was buried in Sirius' body, and oh, God, it was powerful and good, and suddenly, he was there, _right there_ on the verge --

\-- and he fell, screaming Snape's name the whole way down.

Slumping against the bed, he felt Snape give one last thrust as he climaxed, spilling his seed deep within Sirius before sagging against him. But Sirius couldn't support both their weight, and Snape rested against him only a moment before pressing a kiss to the back of Sirius' neck and withdrawing slowly. Without a word, he finished undressing both himself and Sirius, took Sirius' hand and led him to the bathroom, getting them both cleaned up before taking him back to bed and slipping beneath the covers beside him.

Sated and exhausted, Sirius rolled onto his side and nestled against Snape, who had spooned up to him from behind; within moments, he was asleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, Neville spent most of the night patting Harry's hand and explaining that yes, Harry was loved, and no, they all didn't tolerate him only because he was the Boy Who Lived and played Quidditch well. It took three handkerchiefs and the entire box of bonbons Neville had stashed away, but he finally got Harry to stop sobbing and go to sleep.

By that time, Neville was so tired, he didn't have the energy to send an owl to St. Mungo's. It would have to wait until morning, but perhaps by then, whatever madness had gripped everyone might have run its course, if it had been induced by some kind of strange spell or potion. If Professor Snape hadn't run mad himself, Neville would have suspected him of tampering with the school's pumpkin juice.

Blowing his own nose and cursing the spring cold he seemed to catch every year, Neville crawled into bed and went to sleep, hoping tomorrow would be a much better day.

* * *

The first thing Sirius was aware of when he awoke was warmth. Not general warmth, but concentrated warmth. Human body type warmth, spread more or less evenly behind him.

There was also, he realised, an arm draped across him.

Cracking his eyes open, he looked at the arm, hoping to identify its owner. It was covered in coarse, black hair.

Damn.

Not Remus, then. The hair on Remus' arms was only a little darker brown than that on his head. So who...?

Memory, that tricksome bitch, decided to crash down on him at that moment.

Oh, bloody fucking hell.

The gas... the message... the mind-blowing sex... he remembered it all, in vivid detail, complete with full color and sound effects.

"Snape," he groaned, more of a prayer to whatever Power that might be listening for a swift and merciful death than a wake-up call, but it was enough to rouse his bed partner.

"What?"

A brief silence.

"Fuck."

"We already did that, thanks to that damned gas," Sirius retorted, remaining resolutely on his side, facing away from Snape, who had disengaged himself with alacrity from the tangle of limbs they'd formed in the night. That Snape was apparently as disgruntled as he was didn't appease the blend of embarrassment and anger welling up inside him.

"Thank you, yes, I remember."

Sirius lay there in silence, righteous indignation building until he couldn't stand it anymore, and he sat bolt upright, glaring down at Snape, who gazed back with the stony expression Sirius was accustomed to seeing; the effects of the gas must have worn off. Sirius no longer felt shy and inhibited, and there was no trace of the open, affectionate man who'd made love to him the night before in Snape's face or eyes.

"Why me?" he demanded. "Was it because I happened to show up at the right time, and you would have grabbed the first warm body you saw?"

Snape glanced away and said nothing, and Sirius released a short, frustrated sigh.

"Look," he said with as much patience as he could muster under the circumstances, "we're naked, in bed, and we've seen each other act in ways that we'd both rather die under torture than admit to anyone else. I don't see any point in being coy now."

"No."

"No what?"

"No, it wasn't because you were convenient. I was about to go looking for you when you arrived." Snape refused to look at him, but that didn't keep Sirius from gaping at him in astonishment.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I wasn't in the state of mind to objectively analyse my motives. All I know is that you were the one I wanted to... be with." He fell silent, then for the first time, he slanted a shrewd look up at Sirius. "What about you? Why did you say yes?"

"I don't know. That's why I asked you: I hoped you'd have answers, because I don't."

Grabbing his pillow, Sirius pummeled it a few times, releasing some tension that way before shoving it behind his back and leaning against it.

"I thought you hated me," he said at last, still trying to make sense of the situation.

"You tried to kill me," the other man snapped. "Of course, I hated you."

"I did _not_ try to kill you!" Sirius protested, defending his innocence. "I was angry, because you'd been nosing around again, and I thought if you had a good scare, you might leave us alone. It didn't occur to me that anything worse could happen, especially not since you're so good with the Dark Arts."

"What if I'd cast an Unforgivable Curse on Lupin out of sheer terror and instinct?"

"... I didn't think about that..."

Snape's tone dripped acid. "There appears to be a lot you didn't think of, in regards to that night."

"It's over, Snape, ancient history. If you expect me to wear a hair shirt over it, you can forget it. I'm far more interested in what's going to happen _now_."

All that garnered was a long-suffering sigh. "You realise that's your main problem, do you not? You're a creature of impulse, never thinking beyond the moment."

"And you're too worried about what _might_ happen to enjoy what is happening," Sirius retorted, crossing his arms on his chest and trying not to pout.

"Are you suggesting that either of us might find being in bed together enjoyable?" Snape gave him a look that was part astonishment and part disbelief, but Sirius considered the question seriously for a moment.

He remembered everything about the night before, including what he'd said as well as what he'd done. As much as he'd rather not admit it aloud, he knew that the gas had tapped into some tiny, repressed part of himself and brought it out full force. It hadn't turned him into a different person; it had simply caused something already within him to bloom. Chances are, it had had that effect on everyone -- which gave a whole new insight into Snape that Sirius found uncomfortably intriguing -- and it built on things that were already there, only hidden.

Which meant that somewhere, deep down beneath all the hatred and bitterness and anger, they'd both wanted to shag each other senseless.

"If I said I want to make love without being under the influence of the gas," he said slowly, not quite able to look at Snape as he spoke, "could you be like you were last night, even a little bit?"

There was a prolonged silence from the other side of the bed, and Sirius was about to leap out of bed and get the hell out of there before he could compound his humiliation any further when finally Snape spoke in a low murmur.

"I don't know... but there's a way we can find out."


End file.
